The Wretched of Muirwood (33 page)

“They must be returned to the abbey,” Lia said softly at last. “I will take them with me. Thank you.”

Darkness veiled the world, and Lia was anxious and wary about seeing the abbey again in the daylight. Yet there was sadness in her heart at the thought of leaving Colvin and Edmon, two soon-to-be earls who treated her as an equal. Clutching the implements she had rescued from Jon’s grave, she followed Bryn out of the room, glancing back at the bed one last time.

The soldiers guarding her room wore Demont’s colors, and they nodded to her respectfully as she passed them. Down the stairs they went, and images of Colvin’s fight sent pangs into her heart. She remembered Scarseth quivering on the floor as Colvin took his birthright back, the knight-maston sword that had belonged to his father.

“The earl of Norris-York is handsome,” Bryn said. “He smiled at me when I gave him his breakfast. He is very handsome, is he not?”

“He is,” Lia said, but in her mind he was too pretty. Too amiable. In her estimation, Colvin was the more striking of the two.

Bryn opened the door into the kitchen, and both Colvin and Edmon stood as she entered. Prestwich the steward was there as well, enjoying a heel of bread dripping with honey. Gingerly, he rose to greet her and finished the bite. He was bald, except for some feathery hair along the crown. He was a short fellow, very deliberate, and used ponderous words.

“Welcome home to Muirwood, Lia,” he said warmly. It was genuine. He motioned for Bryn to shut the door, and she did. The family gathered near. She recognized each of them and her heart bubbled at seeing familiar faces again.

Prestwich gazed down at the floor, clasped his hands behind his back, then fixed the two knights with a sharp look. “The Aldermaston’s instructions are clear in this matter. Lord Colvin and Lord Edmon, he will meet you both this morning after the gates open. You may bring your retinue and enjoy the hospitality of the abbey. But the hospitality for you and your men will not extend beyond nightfall. This was only a leg of your journey. To dwell longer will raise suspicions as to why you truly came.”

He looked at them both pointedly, his jowls stern. “The Aldermaston will give you more instructions later. Again, you are his welcome guests today only. You must make your way to your next destination before sunset. Lia, you will come with me through the tunnel so as not to be seen entering with them.”

For a moment, she hesitated. Colvin stared at her, and she could not understand the look in his eyes. His jaw was clenched, but not as if he were mastering his temper. The mud was wiped clean, his face shaved and smooth, but the scars of the last few days were still evident. He looked as if he wanted to speak with her alone, but dared not demand it in front of everyone, least of all the Aldermaston’s steward.

“Come,” Prestwich said, waving her to him.

She started after Prestwich, approaching the ladder that led into the cellar with the gear in her arms.

“Lia.”

It was Colvin’s voice. She turned back and looked at him wonderingly as he drew near. His eyes were deep and penetrating. “I will not forget what you did for me, sister. Nor my promise to you.” He leaned closer and kissed her cheek lightly, just a quick brush of his lips, but it sent a tingle down to her toes. But before he withdrew, he whispered in her ear, “Whitsunday.”

At the implied request, she smiled at him, a smile that said many words she would not say in front of so many people. The Whitsunday festival was coming. Her first year to dance around the maypole. She nodded once, then followed Prestwich down the ladder, her heart afire with emotions. The thrill of being back home. The lingering warmth of his kiss on her cheek. What would Reome think – and all the other lavenders for that matter – on the day when a wretched danced with an earl? The thought of it was sweeter than treacle. She smiled at Colvin again before descending the ladder. He smiled back, pleased, and watched her disappear into the tunnels beneath the abbey grounds.

* * *

Prestwich ambled in silence during their journey through the secret tunnels. They did not enter through the abbey itself, but took a separate passageway that led into the manor. A Leering blocked the way, and Prestwich mumbled a word to it, which she could not hear. He turned back and looked at her. His voice was low and serious.

“The Aldermaston will never ask you to lie,” he said. “For your own good, however, he desires that others in the abbey believe that you never went to Winterrowd. Your companion, Sowe, has been in hiding since you left. Neither she nor you have been seen since the day you ran away. Whatever you speak of together, for I know you share certain secrets, we cannot prevent. But you must be guarded in whom you trust with that knowledge. Is that clear, child? The less others know, the better.”

“I will obey the Aldermaston’s wishes,” Lia said.

“I hope so,” he answered. “That has not always been easy for you.” Prestwich turned to the open Leering. Beyond was another cellar and a circle of light shone coming from the chamber above. Even from the distance to the ladder, Lia could hear Pasqua muttering under her breath.

“Fits and stones, she should be here by now! Where is that nasty Prestwich? He is taking his own sweet time. By the idle, I ought to…is that you? Prestwich, do you have her?”

“She is with me even now,” he replied and motioned for Lia to take the ladder first.

Lia’s heart was nearly bursting. She climbed up the ladder, setting down her burdens as she cleared the top, and Pasqua met her with a ferocious hug that crushed her breath away. Sowe was there also, tears gleaming in her eyes.

“Child, child, child, you are home again! Oh Lia – oh my dear Lia!” The hug was strong enough to squeeze tears from her eyes. “Oh Lia – thank Idumea. Thank Idumea you are safe!” She sobbed against Lia’s shoulder, squeezing her harder and harder. Lia was surprised by her reaction, at the violence of her feelings. Pasqua hugged her tightly, swaying back and forth. “Never leave us like that again, child. Please…you do not know my poor heart. How I have suffered for you. How I have worried about you.” She pressed Lia’s cheeks with her hands and kissed her head. “I nearly broke my leg trying to hunt after you!”

“She did,” Sowe said, tears spilling down her lashes. “And I had to nurse her.”

“Pasqua,” Lia said, then stopped, choking on the words. “Sowe.”

Pasqua took her hands next and kissed them. “No, child. No – let me speak. You cannot understand my heart. You cannot understand, because you are too young still. But some day, you will be a mother, and you will understand then. So be still. Let me speak. Let me say what I should have said all these years. I have loved you like a daughter, though I never told you.” Her hands clenched tightly. “As if you were my
own
daughter. My own flesh. When you left, and I had not told you, I thought as if the pain would kill me. Dear child – I have loved you since you were a babe. Since the day the Medium left you here. Thank Idumea you have come home. You are home, Lia.
Your
home. Sowe, your sister is back!” The other girl was pulled violently into the embrace. “I love you both, do you hear me? You are my daughters. My sweet daughters!”

Lia could not see for the tears blinding her eyes, but she hugged Pasqua and thought her heart would break with so much joy when Sowe joined them.

* * *

The Aldermaston greeted her with a smile of affection and then turned to shut the door behind her, leaving Pasqua and Sowe in the corridor beyond. “I will only be a moment with her,” he told them before sealing it closed.

He walked back to his stuffed chair and eased himself into it. A tome lay open on his desk, a sheepskin covering beneath it. Part of the page was written on. The other part was clean and unblemished by etchings. She recognized it as Maderos’ tome.

“Welcome home to Muirwood,” he said, his gravely voice so familiar.

“Thank you for allowing me to return, Aldermaston,” she whispered, uncertain where she stood in his eyes. The reunion with Pasqua and Sowe had altered her heart in some unimaginable way. Her feelings were like a stew kettle bubbling over. She could not stop fidgeting with her hands.

The Aldermaston leaned back in his chair, wincing with the effort. “I am pleased you made it back safely.”

She swallowed, her eyes stinging with tears again. “I did. But I am sorry about Jon Hunter. You do not know how sorry I am…”

He held up his hand and grimaced, as if the pain were still too raw for him as well. “What is done is done. I cannot hold you accountable for his death, Lia. That would be unfair. I sent him, so I alone bear that blame. So the abbey has need of a new hunter. I began seeking to rectify that concern when I received the earl of Forshee’s message. Do not burden yourself with it. It was all the Medium’s will, surely.” He brushed his eyes, whether from tears or dust, but she could see the pain in his expression. “It will be no greater miracle that brings us into another world to live forever with our dearest friends than that which has brought us into this one to live a lifetime with them. Or almost a lifetime. Therefore, we weep when they depart. But we will see them again in another world.” A tear ran down his cheek.

She struggled with her feelings for the old man. Never in her life had she seen him weep.

“Lia,” he said, then paused, trying to choose the right words. “You may think it was caprice which has prevented me from allowing you to be a learner at Muirwood. I am certain you have assigned any number of motives to my unwillingness. You may even suppose that because of what happened during your adventure to Winterrowd that I would allow you now.” He leaned back even further in his chair and brought his hands together in front of him, his fingertips touching. “I have motives as other men have. But in this thing, I act for your own best good. You must trust me, Lia. You must trust that what I do, I do for
your
own best good. I have felt this premonition since that night of the great storm. The night you stole a ring from my chamber. It was the night that I began to truly realize how strong you were with the Medium already.” He bent forward, his voice heavy with meaning. “While I am Aldermaston at Muirwood, you will not be a learner.”

A flood of disappointment washed over her.

“Rein in your feelings, child. Until I finish. That may mean many things. It does not mean that you will never learn to read. I cannot foretell how long I will remain as Aldermaston and you are much younger than I. Those words were spoken to you through the Medium’s will at the time. I feel them valid still. You would make an
excellent
learner, Lia. And that is one of the reasons why I cannot let you.”

She subdued her disappointment. “Thank you, Aldermaston. I will trust your judgment in this. I know now that I should have trusted you…earlier.”

“Your trust is not easily earned. Thank you.”

She turned to leave then stopped. Reaching down to the pouch at her waist, she loosened the strings and withdrew the Cruciger orb. She was loathe to give it up. “I am sorry for stealing this from you. I will never steal from you again.”

As she was about to set it on his table, he held up his hand. The look on his face – the gesture – confused her.

“I must correct you. You did not steal it, Lia. You, of all people, cannot steal it. For it is already rightfully yours.”

She did not realize she had stopped breathing. “What do you mean?”

His eyes penetrated hers. His eyes, so deep and timeless, like the sea. “We found it with you in the basket. So you see, it did not surprise me that it worked for you or that it led you. Since you have already mastered its powers, I must allow you to keep what is rightfully yours. It is yours, Lia. The Cruciger orb has always been yours.”

* * *

“Through the will of the Medium, many devices and implements have been created for the use and benefit of those who believe and are willing to act. Stones that give off light. Shells of glass that fasten into breastplates which allow the wearer to translate languages. Of these implements, the Cruciger orbs are perhaps the most mysterious. No artisan can craft such remarkable and so intricate a workmanship. They are ancient devices. All records which speak of them describe that they are gifts found by happenstance by common men and women destined for great deeds and are usually handed down from generation to generation and guarded with the utmost secrecy. The orbs only work for those they were intended to bless. It is my personal belief that they are not of this world at all, but gifts from the world of Idumea.”

- Cuthbert Renowden of Billerbeck Abbey

* * *

###

I am a collector of quotes. Over the years, I have assembled snippets of wisdom from Greek philosophers, advisors of Roman emperors, religious texts of various faiths, to more modern luminaries like Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and Andrew Carnegie. Nearly all of the quotes attributed to Cuthbert Renowden of Billerbeck Abbey in fact originate from our world, with some editing for context. There are themes of wisdom from Solomon to Allen that reveal some of the secrets of human nature. I have tried to weave these into the Muirwood series as well as I could. Bonus point to any reader who figures them all out.